


Beautiful  surfaces,  Terrible  depths

by lookupkate



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, Blood Kink, Explicit Sexual Content, Homophobic language in chapter twelve, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV John Watson, Possessive Sherlock, Sherlock in Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2017-12-10 13:56:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookupkate/pseuds/lookupkate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a hard knock to the head John can't remember anything since his army days.   This is extremely hard for Sherlock as he and John have just taken their relationship from friendship to more.  He loves John, and John doesn't know him.  Can Sherlock make John fall in love with him again, or were the circumstances of their first meeting so integral to their relationship that things can't return to how they were.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To sleep, perchance to dream

Hmmmmmmmmmmm...

\-----

Beep. Beep. Beep. Bee........

"If he'll only wa......"

\-----

"John? John, can you hear me?"

A voice above my head is speaking to me. At least I think it's speaking to me. I think I'm John. My mind is a muddy place. Full of empty hallways and mumbling voices.

I open my eyes reluctantly and the pain it induces is sharp. Have I been shot? I can feel my body, and it feels worn. It's a dull ache-filled mass holding me to this damned place. Sometimes I wish I never enlisted. Bugger this, I'm going back to sleep.

"John, can you hear me?"

I try to say that yes,I can bloody hear you, twat. But nothing comes out. My throat is so dry. Damn this desert. Damn this war. I am smarter this time and don't open my eyes fully. I manage to croak out 'water ', and am given an ice chip as my reward. 'Good Johnny' I think, you get a treat. I think I fall back asleep.

Buzz......

"I think he's coming to."

I open my eyes slowly and am surprised to see that I am not in a tent, but rather in a hospital room. I must be injured more seriously than I thought if they medivaced me to a hospital. I try to move my limbs just to make sure they are all there. A bit of pain, but as I look down I seem to be whole. The nurse comes into the room with a tall lean man in tow. No uniform. Interesting. 

"Thank God you're finally awake John. You had these poor doctors worried. I knew you'd be fine. Now nurse, when can I take him home?" The strange man says.

My mind is spinning. Home.Home.Home. I'm going home. Does this mean I'm too injured to serve? Dear God what's happened to me? 

"Am I paralyzed?" I finally ask. 

The tall man looks at me with confusion. "You got a knock on the head, but you're fine otherwise, why would you think you're paralyzed? Is that normal, nurse?" He says. 

They talk amongst themselves and I try to move my limbs, surprised to find out that all of them work. If it was just a concussion of some sort then why am I being sent home? The pain meds start to hit me hard and I am falling sleep again.

\-----

I start to wake up, and I realize that the lights must be out. I open my eyes and look around me. To my surprise I'm no longer in the hospital, but a bed in a sparse room. I look to my right and see the table of elements on the wall. I can hear a violin, and smell tea and burnt toast. The room is definitely not of the architectural type found in Afghanistan. I'm not sure what to make of this.

"Hello? Who's there?" I say into the dim room. 

"Are you up? Fantastic, I was starting to think you were going to sleep forever. I made you toast, but it went a bit wrong. Here, have some tea." A voice says as footsteps approach. 

The door opens and the tall man from before walks in with a cup and a smile on his face. He walks right up to me and places a warm cup of tea in my hands. 

"Thank you for the tea." I say, taking a sip. "I was wondering where I am, and I would sure like to know who you are as well." I add.

The tall man straightens and looks concerned. "John?" He says. "What's the last thing you remember before the hospital?" 

"I remember patching up Murray's arm and feeling a blast go off. Why?" I respond. 

I'm beginning to feel that I should be a lot more concerned than I am by the look on this gentleman's face, but I think the pain meds are keeping me calm. 

"Oh, John." The man says. A look of panic forming on his face....


	2. Going Back Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock tries to keep John calm as a specialist is called in.

The next twenty minutes are a blur. I find out that the tall man is named Sherlock Holmes and that we are in some sort of business relationship. Turns out I have been home from Afghanistan for over two years. Seems that I might have a bit of catching up to do. At least I am not horribly injured, and it seems that I have a fairly good life going here, so that's a plus. 

I try to keep this all in mind while my new, old, friend Sherlock buzzes about on the cell with doctors and a man named Lestrade.

When he finally gets off the phone Sherlock comes back to my bedside. 

"Mycroft is sending in an expert on amnesia. They should touch down within the hour. Lestrade says that they finally caught the bastard, so your circumstance was not in vain. Mrs. Hudson is making some shepherds pie, your favorite." Sherlock says. 

I must look confused because he realizes that all he is saying to me might not make so much sense. 

He starts again. "Things you should know: shepherds pie is your favorite. Things you're not expected to: Mycroft is my brother, and has enough power to fly in a specialist for you. Lestrade is a DI we work with at Scotland Yard. Mrs. Hudson is our land lady. Oh, and she might remind you that she's not our maid. Think nothing of it. So....up to speed?"

It takes me a minute to process the information, and makes me realise that I'm just left with more questions. 

"We work with Scotland Yard? What was the bit about someone being apprehended? Was I seriously out chasing criminals when I got injured? Do we actually chase criminals?" I ask. 

A smile forms on Sherlocks lips and he replies. 

"That's my John, always asking the right questions when everyone else would only listen. Let's see if I can give you a small catch up on your life since the army. Hmmmm. You were invalided out of the war after you got shot in the shoulder. Once home you met me through an old friend Mike Stamford, he got fat. We became flat mates. I am a consulting detective, I'll explain later, and you became my....well...other half in the field. Together we solve crimes, eat entirely too much takeout and watch a good amount of crap telly. If there is such a thing as a good amount of crap telly. You work at a surgery part time, just enough to cover rent. That should cover most of it."

I sit up in bed with a bit of help and breath deeply. What a life. 

"How is Harry?" I ask. 

"Besides being a drunk and unreliable relative? She and Clara called it quits a few years ago. Otherwise I suppose she's fine. You can call her later if you like, but talking to her always makes you a bit cross." Sherlock says. 

"I guess I'll wait" I reply. 

"Alright then, you rest up, I'll let you know when either the specialist, or the shepherds pie makes an appearance. And John.....I am so damn glad you're alright." 

I think I see a tear well up in his eye as he turns to leave but maybe that was the poor lighting....


	3. Specialists are made to be broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John gets his specialist, Shepherds pie, and some more answers......just as Sherlock throws a wrench in the progress.

I wake to the most wonderful smell. For a moment I think I'm back home, and mom is in the kitchen making dinner. I know this can't be, but I can't remember why. I slowly inch my eyes open, and am surprised to find a man's face pressed to my chest. I look at him and then up as a woman walks in speaking quietly to me. 

"Oh, John, our dear John. You're awake. Wonderful. I've just cut up the shepherds pie. Oh, Sherlock, poor Sherlock has seemed to have fallen asleep on you. He has been up for days, refusing to leave your side. Let's let him rest while the food cools a bit shall we? Tea?" She asks. 

"Yes please." I respond quietly, not exactly sure how I feel about my flatmate falling asleep with his head on my chest. I hope that this is because I have really just met the man, and not that I've been brought out of a coma an ass.

As the woman returns with the tea she takes a seat next to me on the other side of the bed. 

"Here you are my dear, but don't expect service like this once you're better, I'm not your maid." That comment clicks, and I smile at who must be Mrs. Hudson. 

"Does he always fall asleep perched on people, or does he just fancy my chest for a nap?" I ask her. 

"Oh, silly Sherlock, never sleeps when he should, only when he runs out of steam or you make him. Just like eating. You really are the only one that can get him to eat when he doesn't want to. Went days on end with no sleep or food before you came along John. No one quite knows how he stayed alive before you. But, I guess it's a mystery for you too now." She says with a sad look in her eyes.

Sherlock's face stirs on my chest and soon this new man that I, and apparently only I, know how to keep alive is blinking and looking into my eyes. For a moment he just stays there, and I can swear he's almost purring my name. Then he suddenly jerks upright and looks around the room like he was the one coming out of a coma. 

"It wasn't actually a coma John, you were unconscious, but never went comatose." He states as he pulls at his cuffs. I look up at him in amazement because by god that man just read my damn mind. "You'll find I do that a lot." He says. 

"Do what?" I ask, confused as ever. 

"Well, read your mind of course!" He states as he walks into the kitchen.

Sherlock brings a card table over to the side of my bed, and Mrs. Hudson starts making up places for the three of us. When the meal is set I decide to try to sit up again. I manage pretty well and the whole room breathes a sigh of relief. The food is delicious, and the company jovial, putting all of us into a good mood. 

Just as the last of the plates are removed from the table a knock comes at the door. Mrs. H jumps in excitement, and goes to answer it.

In walks a man with several bags and a taller man with an umbrella. I watch as Sherlock stiffens at the sight of the man with the umbrella. If I had to guess by his behavior I would think that this man was his arch enemy. Their bodies act out a scene from a comic book, Sherlock's becoming that of an animal about to strike, as this itself makes the other man smile deeper. 

"Sherlock" The man says. 

"Mycroft" Sherlock replies. They begin to circle each other as the third man approaches me. 

"Hello John, I'm Doctor Thomas Whitman. I'm a specialist in the field of memory loss. If you're feeling up to it I'd like to run a few tests." The man says. 

Finally Sherlock and this 'Mycroft' figure sit down in apposing chairs. 

"John, can you hear me?" The doctor asks me. I realize I'm being rude, and meet his eyes with a smile. 

"Yes, I'm sorry, so much going on today that it's a bit hard to concentrate." I say. 

The doctor prods and pokes, and asks all manner of bizarre and unfortunate questions. After about an hour he tells me to rest and goes to speak with Sherlock and this Mycroft character.

As I begin to close my eyes I am brought back to full attention as Sherlock bounds from his chair yelling "You're a fraud! I should have known by your jacket. You call yourself a doctor??!!!?"

Mycroft stands from his chair and sternly tells Sherlock to take his seat. Again the power battle blazes in front of me. After a long and confusing minute of shouting the doctor runs out the door with Sherlock yelling after him, and Mycroft almost tackling Sherlock to the floor in the process. 

"I knew I should never have left anything this delicate to you, Mycroft" Sherlock seethes. 

"That's bloody well enough out of you! If you are going to accuse one of the best specialists in the country of being a fraud because you didn't like his answers.......well, then you and our dear Mr. Watson are screwed." Mycroft says as he turns to leave. 

"That's Doctor Watson you pompous arse!" I yell at him, and he stops for a moment looking thoroughly undone before storming out.

I look at Sherlock and suddenly we are laughing whole heartedly in the empty room. 

"Did you just scare away my doctor?" I ask through a fit of giggles. 

"Did you just call my brother a pompous arse?" Sherlock retorts. 

I laugh even harder at this new information. "That was your brother???" I ask, and we both fall apart laughing again. 

Mrs. Hudson ascends the stairs and looks around the room with anger in her eyes. "Did you two just scare away John's doctor?" She asks. 

When her only response from us is more laughter she huffs and leaves the flat. It feels so good to laugh that I don't ask what the doctor said that was so horrible he must be a fraud. I'm not sure now whether I want to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you readers like this chapter. I'm beginning to fall in love with our army doctor all over again. He seems to have left some of his manners along the way, but we've all wanted to call Mycroft names at one time or another.


	4. What to do when your flatmate loses his mind, or, Where is John and who is this rugby player you have replaced him with?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search for a new specialist begins as Sherlock learns what it's like to live with a man who thinks he's a horny twenty year old.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My knowledge of memory loss might have originated around a campfire. As I am too lazy for research, I beg you dear reader, DO NOT use anything I say for diagnosis purposes. I am a writer of fiction and plan to stay firmly within my own unsubstantiated claims. (Neener, neener, neener to my college writing teacher.)

As Sherlock spends the next week looking for a new specialist I resume my not so slow decline into madness. I was assigned to couch duty which involves resting, watching telly, or playing on the laptop, while quickly realizing that my new, old, flatmate is a bizarre virile piece of life sized smut. I try my best not to stare at him like a randy school boy every hour of the day, and am sure I am failing miserably. 

On the third day, which feels like the thirtieth, I decide I need a good shag. Just one night with a lonely barmaid or salesgirl will get me through. 

"I'm gonna go out for a bit." I say to Sherlock as I put on what must either be my jacket or his when he was twelve, and head for the door. 

"Wait right there. You can't go out because you are on bed rest, and you needn't go out because I am giving you everything you require to remain happy." Sherlock pronounces from behind science goggles speckled with blood. 

"Well, not everything." I reply back with a wink. 

Suddenly Sherlock is in front of me, physically stopping me from leaving the flat. 

"But you're sick, and, um, weak, and, um, in need of supervision.......surely you won't mind if I come along." Sherlock interjects, adding "For medical reasons only, of course." 

I have never heard him say 'um' or stumble through a sentence like that before, but I try to keep in mind that I can only remember his speech patterns from the last week. 

"Alright then, grab your coat." I reply, smiling.

Sherlock can't seem to find a comfortable way to sit on the cab ride to the local bar. I'm not sure what is wrong with him. I know for damn sure what is wrong with myself however. I am staring at my bloody flatmate again. I chalk it up to pent up sexual energy. When we finally get to our destination Sherlock practically jumps out of the car and starts jogging down the street before I can get cash out for the driver. 

When I finally catch up to him he is looking around the place with a scowl. 

"Is this the place you wanted to go to?" I ask, not understanding (my current fallback position) why he looks like he even hates the unseen frame of the building and every screw attached. 

"Yes, this will do." He spits out.

We seat ourselves at the bar and I try to chat up the girl behind the bar as I order a pint. When I look to Sherlock to see what he is going to order he is staring daggers at the poor woman. 

"I'll have a water." He snaps at her. 

Once she's off to get the glasses I turn to him and say, "Oi, be nice to the girl, I'm trying to get a leg over remember." 

He huffs dramatically and crosses his arms like a toddler. The night, it seems, is off to a bad start. I get my pint and finish it in no time, ordering another and wondering what the hell I've been seeing in this prat. I order another, and another as he glares at every girl I try to talk to. If I didn't know better I would say he was acting like a jealous girlfriend.

Soon I'm wasted, and even Sherlock is beginning to look like a good catch again. I'm singing along with the commercials on the telly and rooting for my favorite team, so it's all alright. When Sherlock notices that I am verging on dancing he decides we should leave. He seems to walk out a lot happier than he did in, but my powers of deduction might be lacking at this point. He hails us a cab, and pours me into the back seat. 

"Well, too bad that came to nothing. Better luck next time, I'm sure." He states with a smile. 

I sigh and hunker down into the seat. "Whatever you say captain buzzkill." 

When we arrive back at the flat my vision is going silly. He helps me out and into the warm building. When we finally make it up the steps and into the flat I realize I am staring again. I try my best to stop as I attempt to wriggle out of my jacket. I lose the battle on both accounts. I swear this was easier getting on than off. 

"I'll help." Sherlock says once I sag, feeling defeated. 

He is taking off my jacket and I can feel his warm breath on the back of my neck. 'Damn it John', I think, 'keep it together'. The next thing I notice is that he is tucking me into bed. I sincerely hope that the loss of time is due to too much lager rather than a brain injury. He smiles at me, says goodnight, kisses me on the forehead and then disappears from the room. 'That was odd, but not unpleasant.', I think as sleep takes me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For new readers:  
> I am a great believer in the power of the run-on sentence, and as such do not need to be reminded that I tend to use them with great and unneeded frequency. I do sincerely hope that you don't mind.


	5. descent into madness, or, return to normalcy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has a realization. In this state John doesn't remember his conversation with Sherlock years before about him being married to his work. Let's see what happens.

I wake to the sun flooding my room, and my head aching. The most I remember from the night before is that I got plastered and Sherlock kissed me goodnight. I prepare myself for a possible morning after as I walk down the stairs and into the kitchen. 

"I've made tea if you like." Sherlock says glancing up from a slide and gesturing to the counter. "And set out some pain medication. I expect you will need it after the frat party you tried to recreate last night at the pub." He continues as he looks back down through his microscope. 

"Thank you." I say, and press a kiss to the side of his neck. 

He melts into it and I go for the tea. I sit and drink my tea for a bit in my chair, just thinking. Then I feel a presence behind me. 

"John?" Sherlock asks, "Why did you kiss me?"

I turn around to see Sherlock looking confused and perhaps a bit scared. 

"Because I love you. I may not remember where I work, or what my sister's phone number is, but there is one thing I know. I realized it last night after waking from a dream. I know that I love you. You are a part of me, as much so as my own name. I am sorry I didn't realize it until now. I love you." I pause after saying this, and for a moment everything is silent. 

I look up at Sherlock and a single tear runs down his face. "I've missed you so." He says, his voice husky and raw. 

I stand and we embrace. I finally feel like I am home. This is where I belong. Sherlock pulls back from me and looks at me, a small smile pulling at the edge of his mouth. 

"I hope you understand why I didn't tell you. We have only been honest with each other about our feelings for a small amount of time. I didn't want you to feel obligated..." He says. 

"....and?" I ask. 

"And I was afraid that without the time spent...... acquiring a taste for my idiosyncrasies....you wouldn't want me. I was afraid I would be too much to handle." He replies. 

I take his face in my hands and pull him in for a kiss. I hope that as sometimes music can express more than mere words, my actions can express more than anything I might say. I kiss his lips softly at first, trying to display my understanding. Then I crush my mouth against his, a fire flowing through me. I battle for his mouth, pushing my tongue into it and claiming him as mine. I feel him stiffen against me, and I relinquish control.

He takes me in his arms, kissing down my neck and I wimper at the feeling. I let him lead me to his room, our room. He pulls me to the bed and I wrap myself in his arms. I tremble as he undresses me, and he tells me to let him know if it's too much. I nod. 

Now he's kissing down my chest and I am drowning in his touch. I feel like I have been waiting for him to touch me my whole life. He scratches his short nails on my sides as he covers my abdomen in kisses and short licks, making me keen and hiss underneath him. Slowly he undoes my trousers, first licking at the band of my pants, and then removing them with his hands and teeth. I am completely hard by now, and my cock brushes pre come onto my belly.

I look up and Sherlock is removing his clothes, the robe first and then his t-shirt and pants. I breath in quickly at the sight of him above me. He isn't like a real man at all. His skin so pale and unblemished, his body so perfect it's unreal. I look up to face this creature and he looks down at me as though I am the same. He's flushed, a soft berry color just touching his cheeks, neck, chest and the head of his cock. I only know he is real when he begins to move again.

He kisses me deeply, his tongue chasing mine into my mouth as he presses our bodies together. His cock slides against mine and the friction is delicious. Just enough pre come to let our lengths drag against each other with a small amount of resistance. I touch his body, and his alabaster skin is as soft as marble. 

"Please." I whisper into the shell of his ear. "I need you in me, please." 

He kisses down my neck and then reaches for the bedside table. I miss the warmth of his skin, but he is back soon, and with fire in his eyes. He takes the bottle of lube he has retrieved from the drawer and slicks up one hand. Suddenly he is kissing me again, his mouth pressed against mine. As we kiss I feel him snake his hand between our bodies, and suddenly a finger is tracing circles around my entrance. I moan as it moves in, breaching me and making me burn.

The burn is sweet, and soon his finger is moving within me, pushing me to the edge of sanity. Another joins it, and then another. I feel like I'm going to pass out, but then they are gone. My eyes shoot open, and the fear in them must show as he looks down at me and smiles. 

"Shhh." He says. 

He pulls away from me and suddenly I can feel his cock lined up. He presses into me, all heat and force and it's amazing. I shiver as he begins to move, never taking his eyes from my face. Soon he builds a rhythm, increasing slowly and not backing down. He draws my left leg over his shoulder, and the change in angle makes him hit my prostate.

I cry out in ecstasy as he hits is again and again. I can feel a hot mass burning in my belly and I know I will come soon. I look into his eyes and he understands immediately. His hand reaches down and takes my cock. He starts to tug and I can feel him starting to move in me harder. I look up to him and moan as I come in his hand, spilling over his fingers. I clench around his cock and can feel him coming into me, filling me up. I have never felt so whole.

After we have stilled for a bit he moves on top of me. He kisses me as he stands and leaves the room. I worry that he is leaving me to sleep alone, but he is soon back. He uses a warm wet flannel to clean me and rolls me onto my side. He slips onto the bed behind me and pulls the duvet over us. As he slips his arm around my waist I start to fall asleep. 

"Thank you." He says. 

"Sherlock..." I reply "What did the doctor say about me? What was so bad that you made him leave?" I ask. 

"Do you really want to know?" He asks me. 

"Yes." I whisper. 

"He said you might not ever remember anything more than you do now. He also said that another knock to the head could kill you. He said you might never remember me." We lay in silence for a few moments. 

"I don't need to remember you," I say "I know everything I need to know when I look in your eyes." 

He pulls me tight and kisses my shoulder. 

"Sleep, John." He says. And we fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is a giving lover, and you can't tell me he would be any other way. So there.


	6. A Kept Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John learns more about Sherlock and his working relationship......and.....well.....SHOWER SEX!

It's the sound of breathing so close that wakes me. I look for the source and see that Sherlock is sleeping next to me. Yesterday comes back to me, and I curl my body around his. It turns out that you can go home again. Spending the whole day in the flat with him was cathartic. I breath is his scent and feel more content than I can ever remember. He smells of tea and cinnamon and sex, a combination that lights a fire in my belly. I remember this scent. Well, not quite remember, but know. This is what home smells like, this is the scent of safety. As I breath in again his body begins to stir. 

"Mmm... hello darling." Sherlock mumbles. 

"Do you do that often?" I ask. "Call me darling?" 

He turns and wraps his arms around me, burying his face in the spot where my shoulder meets my neck. 

"Mmm." He confirms. 

I blush from the warmth of his breath. He looks up slowly and smiles sweetly at me. 

"Oh, I have forgotten that this is all new to you. Perhaps today I should tell you the story of our first kiss." He says. "Oh, my dear Watson, you would bring out the sentiment in a piece of wood. It still astounds me that you ever doubted my feelings. I fell in love with you the moment you killed the cabby for me. Let's make tea." Sherlock says as he kisses my forehead and rises from the bed.

I just lay in bed for a while in shock. I killed a cabby? Who the hell have I become? I get out of bed after purposefully slowing my breathing and follow him to the kitchen. 

"I killed someone for you?" I ask as I take a seat. 

"Oh, don't worry, he wasn't a very good man." He replies. I look up at him with concern. 

"And he was a serial killer. You shot him when you saw that I was about to take what I still believe only looked like a poisoned pill. You were quite the knight in shining armor. Don't tell Lestrade though, he might suspect it was you, but we don't want to give him reason for an arrest with you so soon out of hospital." I sit back, still confused. 

"Alright." I say. "Tell be about the case."

Over then next few hours Sherlock goes over some of our most important cases. We drink tea and joke, and it all feels so right. Sherlock's phone buzzes, and he tells me it's Lestrade. 

"The detective inspector?" I ask. 

"Yes, he has some paperwork for me to fill out. Why don't you read through your blog while I go down to his office. I'll bring back curry." Sherlock says as he heads for the bathroom. 

"Alright, sounds like a plan." I say. He stops and looks around the corner at me expectantly. 

"Shower?" He asks appearing hopeful. 

I blush and nod. As he walks to the bathroom he sheds his clothes. I pick them up on the way and wonder if I am the maid in this apartment.

The water is hot, and I hope that the steam hides a bit of my shyness. As I strip and get into the shower Sherlock smiles and wraps his arms around me for the second time this day. He starts kissing my neck and I can feel myself growing hard. He slowly drags his fingers down my shoulders to my arms and my sides, finally gripping me roughly by the arse. I wimper, and kiss him deeply. 

"You're not going to make it to the yard anytime soon if you keep this up." I say. 

"Well, it is always a good idea to keep Lestrade waiting a bit." Sherlock replies, taking my earlobe between his teeth. I hiss and he takes me by the shoulders and turns me around. 

"I think I might have to shag you right here, against this very wall." He says into my ear, his voice dropping an octave and becoming raw again. I can hear the need in his voice. 

"That..that might be a good idea." I reply, trying not to sound as desperate as I am.

Sherlock takes my cock in his warm hand and I groan. The pleasure shoots through me, and I find it a bit hard to focus. 

Apparently reading my mind again Sherlock whispers, "Focus on my touch, don't worry about anything else." 

He pulls slowly at my aching erection and rubs his thumb over the tip of my cock. I can barely breath. 

"That's my boy." He murmurs. I groan again as he rubs his hot cock against my back. 

"Breath." He says to me. 

His right hand continues to slowly pump my cock as his left begins to slip between my cheeks. I feel him pushing a finger into me and wimper again. 

"God you're hot. You're always so hot for me. So eager." He whispers. 

I feel a second finger and he presses them both in and brushes against my prostate. I buck under him and he chuckles.

"You are so responsive." Sherlock purrs. I feel a third finger and begin to push back against them. 

"That's it, fuck yourself on my fingers." He says, and I almost come. "Not yet." He says, and licks up my neck. 

His fingers are suddenly gone, and I can feel his cock breaching me. 

"Fuck." I swear, and he's all the way in me. 

Filling me up. Pressed up tight against me. I can feel his balls rub against me and he starts to move. The slow pumping of my cock in his hand and his cock in my ass pick up. I grunt and he pushes into me hard. 

"Harder." I say, and he begins to ram himself against me faster. 

I am about to come and he senses it, squeezing his thumb and forefinger in a ring around the base of my cock. The orgasm back off a bit. 

"Wait for me." He says and begins to move faster.

I put my right foot up on the side of the tub and he angles for my prostate. He buries himself deeper in me than he could before. He is soon thrusting up with such force that I am being lifted off my left foot. He wraps his arm firmly around my abdomen and holds me upright. He hits my prostate and I cry out. His movements become erratic. 

I can feel myself right at the edge, and he says "Now." 

I come so hard that I cry out again, and as I feel myself tighten around him he begins to shake and comes into me. His body slows, and after a short while he pulls out. 

"That's a good boy." He says to me through deep breaths. 

"Mmm." I reply. 

We stand pressed against each other for a while, then he pulls away from me. I miss his skin, but before I can turn around he's rubbing my back with a bar of soap scented with cinnamon. It feels amazing, and I bow my head. 

"Let's clean you up dear." Sherlock says and I sigh. 

"Do you always take such good care of me, or is this a special occasion?" I ask. 

As he soaps up my arms and scrubs at my neck he replies, "You taught me well." 

I let him tip back my head as he shampoos me. "So I'm a kept boy? Is that it?" I ask with a laugh. 

"Indeed." He replies. 

We both laugh at that, and I turn now to return the favor. He lets me clean his body, and I try to not become aroused again. His pure white flesh is tinted red with the heat from the shower and the bit of exertion. He is absolutely gorgeous. As he turns off the water and I step out of the shower I am struck again by how damn lucky I am. He takes a plush towel and begins to dry my hair. I am in heaven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The obligatory shower scene ladies and gentlefolk.


	7. Learning From The Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John reads his blog while Sherlock is out and begins to see in it a different Sherlock than the one he knows (or has known for a short while). When Sherlock returns from the yard John has some questions for him. These questions take a back seat to some bad behavior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is for you selkie!

I sign on to my blog and go to the first entry. I read, and realize I know the story. As I read on I have another realization, one that sends shivers down my spine. I don't recognize the characters. No, that's not it. Not quite. I recognize myself, but not Sherlock. As I read about Sherlock in my own words I am shocked at what it shows me. It paints a picture of a rude, mad, unrealistic man. The Sherlock I have come to know over that last week is a sweet, gentle human. He has his quirks, but he is never cold. Never uncaring. I read on and begin to see what my life has been like. Some of the private entries are bitter. One directly after the hound case has me questioning whether Sherlock actually cares about anything other than himself. I am beginning to feel like a joke has been played on me.

As I read on I can see my views of Sherlock changing. I have always been amazed and enthralled by him, it seems, but I see myself fall in love with him. It's right there for all the world to see, if only they read between the lines. The words used to describe him (my own words) grow softer. No less exciting mind you, but gentler. The insights into his mind amaze me. Maybe I should have looked into psychology in school. I read myself starting to understand a seemingly unknowable man. My complaints about him seeming unfeeling stop completely about a year and a half into knowing him. He seems to change from a man who cares for no one to a man who cares for few. I am one of the few.

I hear footsteps on the stairs and look up to my clock to see it has been roughly three hours since Sherlock left. I turn to look as he bustles in through the door. 

"If they would stop being so stupid they would be able to see exactly what is going on." Sherlock yells at nothing. He turns to me looking again like a wild animal and asks, "Why won't they stop, John? Why won't they just bloody stop?" He punctuates the last question with the slam of the front door. 

"Oi, you're gonna damage my hearing banging about like that!" I say to him as he seems to grow wilder. 

I get up from my seat and go to him, looking him in the eyes. He avoids looking at me, instead looking at the ceiling. 

"Are you alright?" I ask him.

"Do you mean 'am I high', John? I suppose since you've read through," His brow furrows, "Two years of our relationship on your blog, you think you know me." He states and storms off into our bedroom, slamming the door with even more ferocity than before. 

I'm shocked by his sudden bout of paranoid anger. I decide to go down and see if Mrs. Hudson has any clues into what might have set him off. Just as I turn to the door the phone on my desk rings. It is the first time this mobile has rung, and I am a bit surprised. The screen says Lestrade.

"Ello?" I ask as I answer it. 

"Oi, Johnny. I want to start by apologizing. I think I may have sent Sherlock home to you in a bit of a bad mood. I was just worried, and he was acting so happy and content that I though maybe he was smoking again. Not normal to be so content when your own boyfriend doesn't remember......oh bugger. Did I just break the news to you that you're in a relationship with the bloke?" I breath in to steady myself and reply. 

"Actually Detective Inspector, I do know we're in a relationship. Figured that one out on my own yesterday. But you're right about sending him home as damaged goods. He is sulking in the bedroom as we speak. I've been reading through my old blog entries today, and correct me if I'm wrong, but he's a bit of a sulker."

A rough laugh comes through the line and Lestrade replies, "Johnny, call me Greg. And yes, your boyfriend is know for a good sulk. Tell him I meant no harm. I'll talk to you soon."He says. 

"Alright Greg, talk to you soon." I reply. 

I hang up the phone and set it back on the desk, then turn for the bedroom. I open the door slowly and creep into the dark room. 

"Just got a call from Greg." I say. Sherlock just sits on the bed, unmoving. 

"He said to tell you he was sorry. He didn't mean to imply anything other than maybe a fag or two." I say. 

I move to sit behind him on the bed, my hands on his shoulders. He sighs. I begin to work my thumbs into his tense muscles and he relaxes a bit. 

"Look Sherlock, I may have read certain things in my blog that I didn't know. I won't pretend to understand anything about you that I haven't already talked to you about. I'm not going to judge you for your past. If you want to tell me about it that's fine. If not, that's fine too. I don't expect to hear your entire life story anytime soon. We will go at your pace. I'm not going anywhere." I say. 

Sherlock turns around and wraps his arms around me. He buries his face in my shirt and breathes erratically. 

"It's ok. Just breath." I say to him. 

He begins to reign in his breath, and starts to become softer in my arms.

We sit for a while like this, not speaking. Just sit wrapped in each others arms. Then he looks up at me. 

"I didn't realize until I was coming home that some of the older entries might make me look like a bit of an arse." He says, looking down at my lap instead of into my eyes. 

"I had enough time to read through the rough patches. I can see why I fell in love with you. There are no doubts in my mind." I reassure. 

"I wasn't always.....stable." Sherlock says. "You weren't around for the worst of it, but you didn't see me at my best for a long time. You helped me realize that caring for people isn't wrong. I wanted to thank you for that." He finished. 

"I feel a bit like I'm getting credit while some other bloke did all the work, but you're welcome. Now tell me about our first kiss." I say, laying down on the bed.

Sherlock smiles and lays down beside me in the dark. "Ah, our first kiss. Well to tell you the truth, it was a mistake." Sherlock says with a grin. He sees that I'm irked by the news and kisses me, then continues. "We were out on a date. No, you were out on a date. I happened to be at the restaurant following up on a lead. When I made a citizens arrest on your waiter things went south. I went down to the yard with Greg, and you said goodnight to your date while picking salad out of her hair. When I finally got home you were so mad at me for ruining yet another promising date that you hit me. Punched me right in the nose." He smiles and I blush. 

"Then, when you saw the blood start to flow down my face you apologized and kissed me. I don't think you meant it to be on the mouth, but all of the sexual tension and anger of the the night came out in a kiss. You went completely pale. I told you it was alright, but you didn't believe me until I kissed you back." He kisses me and we both giggle a little.

"So you used to ruin dates for me?" I ask. 

"Yes, quite often. I scared away quite a few women. One actually told you that you were a wonderful boyfriend, to me." He says and we start to giggle again. 

"And you knew that you fancied me at the time?" I ask, and he nods yes. 

"Then why didn't you say anything to me?" I ask. 

"You pronounced loudly and to anyone who would listen that you were not gay. It was a bit of a running gag with the yarders. They had a wager going for how long it would take for me to bed you." Sherlock said. 

"Who won?" I asked. 

"Greg. Twenty pounds after two long years." Sherlock replied. 

We both relax and look up at the ceiling. "That's one of the most peculiar first kisses I've ever heard of." I say with a smile. 

"Well, we are a bit strange ourselves." Sherlock replies with a laugh.

"Let's go get lunch." I say, as I pull him in for another kiss. 

"If you promise to not arrest anyone." I smirk. 

Sherlock pulls me in and holds me tight as he says yes. We get up, and head for the door. As we walk downstairs I look over to see that the storm cloud has in fact left Sherlock. He's back to smiling softly and breathing regularly. I hope I can always be the one to calm the storm of doubt in his mind. As we walk down Baker street he takes my hand in his, and I smile with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's you first kiss story selk, only a bit late, hope you enjoy it.


	8. An Answer and A Diversion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John plans to get Sherlock out of the way to actually see a specialist. In the meantime John finds out one more thing about himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story includes a very small amount of blood play. If this is a trigger for you please skip it.

After going out for food we return home. There is still plenty of time in the day and Sherlock pulls out his mold cultures from the fridge and falls deeply into the experiment. I quietly gather the cell phone from the desk and open my laptop. I sit in the armchair facing away from Sherlock and play a video on my laptop while I text Greg in private.

 

_I need you to find something for Sherlock to do tomorrow. I need to go to Bart's to talk with a specialist about my condition. The only way I can see of getting this done without interruption is if you can keep him busy. Anything twisted or heinous?_

_JW_

_I had a small case come in today that has something to do with the jewelry heist you two helped on last year. I will call him in as a consultant. How much time do you need?_

_Lestrade_

_Two hours should do it. Thank you. I'll let you know what time I need to leave._

_JW_

That would work out fine. A few hours of ego stroking would do Sherlock some good, and supply me with the diversion I need to get some answers on my condition. Next I text Mycroft, hoping that my apology will stand.

_Mycroft, I want to apologize for my unkind words the other day. I wasn't completely sure who you were. I need to ask a favor._

_JW_

_John, what a pleasure to hear from you. I accept the apology. I suppose you would like me to set up an appointment with another specialist. I assume you will plan to have Sherlock somewhere other than the meeting place. I know a doctor at Saint Bartholomew's that might have some time tomorrow. How is my brother doing?_

_Mycroft Holmes_

_Seems that you're as good at reading my mind as Sherlock. I would greatly appreciate the help. Sherlock is doing fine. I know that we are in a relationship, so I assume that is helping his mental state. I am going to have Greg Lestrade call him into the met tomorrow as a consultant. Sherlock told me what the specialist said, I would just like to hear it from a doctor's mouth. Let me know what time to be there._

_JW_

_I will get back to you._ _  
_

_Mycroft Holmes  
_

I put down the phone, after turning it on silent and check the score on the game playing on my laptop. It's going to all be ok. I just need to double check everything. The game has just started and I should give Sherlock another few hours with the spores before I try to get his attention again. I still feel greedy for his touch. When the game finishes I look at the clock, it's been three and a half hours since we got home. I sigh and close the laptop, placing it and the phone back on the desk. I suddenly feel a bout of guilt. I know that this is for the best, but I still feel like leaving Sherlock out of this is a risky move.

I wander into the kitchen to make some tea. Tea always has a way of calming my nerves. "Tea?" I ask Sherlock. "Mm." He replies. I fill the kettle and turn it on. Once I've pulled out the tea bags and two cups I turn to Sherlock. He sits on the edge of the kitchen chair like a child on the last day of school. So excited he's practically humming. I've never seen anyone get this excited over a petri dish, but I've never know anyone like Sherlock either. He looks so young, crouched over the table with curls beginning to fall into his eyes. The kettle clicks off, and wakes me from my daydream like state. I make up the tea and bring Sherlock his cup. I sit close to him and look over his shoulder at the mold.

"It's really that interesting hmm?" I say. He turns to me with wonder in his eyes and I just about melt. "You have absolutely no idea." Sherlock says with a wicked smile. I want him to smile at me like that. I decide to take a deep breath and sip my tea before I make my move. After a few minutes of silence, and most of my tea gone, I slip a hand onto his thigh. Without moving from the microscope he says, "Hello there Doctor Watson, and what can I do for you?" I blush and reply, "You could return the back massage I gave you earlier today." Sherlock turns to me and smiles sweetly. He then packs the mold back up and returns it to the fridge. He turns and takes my hand, leading me to the bedroom.

I sit on the close edge of the bed and he begins to unbutton my shirt. I feel a blush reaching up my neck. I still can't believe that he's mine. He looks me in the eye as I push a curl from his forehead. "You know I'll never get any work done with you acting like a teenager." He says as he kisses my neck. "Do-do you want to?" I ask. "God, no!" he replies, and chuckles. His kisses are warm and gentle on my neck as his fingers deftly undo my belt. I raise off the bed so that he can take down my trousers. "Lay on your stomach." He says quietly into my ear.

I shuffle to the middle of the bed and he is soon on top of me. As he straddles me and begins to push his thumbs into my shoulder blades I can feel myself getting hard. He moves his thumbs in small circles, seeking out knots and removing them with ease. The tension of the day is wiped away, and I'm almost drifting off when he begins to speak. "Before I met you I was a mess. My mind had such a strong hold on me that the only way of escaping it was heroin. I was in a very bad place when my brother intervened. I know he saved my life. I know this. He got me clean and convinced the met to work with me. Lestrade took to me right away, and has defended me ever since. I always assumed that I should stay away from my emotions. Everyone I had ever opened up to either laughed or abandoned me. Mycroft felt that it would be best not to encourage me down any lane that might put me in harms way again, so he told me on many accounts that caring about others wasn't worth it. You made me realize that he was wrong."

"For a long time I didn't acknowledge that I felt anything for you to him. I was afraid that I would receive some sort of backlash. About three months before your most recent accident you had a false positive on a medical scan that led you to believe you had cancer. When that happened I realized that I couldn't let you go through that without telling you how I felt. In the face my honesty and fear you finally let go of your qualms with being called gay and admitted you felt the same. When we found out that you would be fine I cried for the first time since I was a child."

"When I finally told Mycroft about us he responded in a way I hadn't imagined. He just asked me how it had taken me so long to figure it out. Ever since then, with your help, I have been reevaluating my choices. I know now that I can care about people without failing myself. I just have to be careful who I trust. Thank you for being trustworthy." I am somewhat in shock over this outpouring of information and emotion. I turn over beneath him and take him in my arms. "You're welcome. Thank you for talking to me about all of this." I say before kissing him deeply.

He wraps his arms around my shoulders as he deepens the kiss. His mouth crushes against mine, tongue pressing against my lips and demanding access. I let it slip into my mouth and he teases me with it. His mouth is hot and tastes of tea. He bites at my lip and I moan into his mouth. I feel myself growing hard again, and he presses our cocks together. Even through all of our clothing I can feel his interest. He begins to kiss down my neck, biting every few kisses. I struggle beneath him to unbutton his expensive shirt. Once it's unbuttoned I wrestle it off of him, turning my attention to his trousers. I almost forget to move for a second, feeling his hot skin against mine.

Sherlock breaks our kiss and sits up, taking off his trousers and pants at the same time. I lift my hips below him as he removes my pants. Now it's just us, skin on skin. His cock is hard, and as he ruts against me it spreads pre come along my length. The feeling is almost too much, and I begin to pull away. "Shh.." Sherlock says and backs off a bit. I begin to breath again as he takes it slow. He kisses my chest, leaving a gentle path from my right peck down to where the hair comes in softly under my navel. I breath in deeply as he begins to kiss the insides of my thighs, avoiding my cock.

"Please." I say, and he understands. He licks up my cock once and starts to take it into his mouth. Once it's fully in his mouth he hums deeply, sending shivers up my body. I buck underneath him and feel him smile around me. He sucks softly, his head bobbing up and down. He runs his tongue back and forth as he pulls off my dick. It tickles in the most amazing way. Once he's sitting up I sit up to join him. He looks at me confused for a moment before I say, "Let me take the lead this time." He smiles at me and nods.

I take the hair on the back of his head in my hand and pull it back hard. He gasps as I start to roughly kiss and nip at his exposed neck. "You are so sexy." I say. "With those damned cheekbones and gorgeous curly hair." I add as I bite down his shoulder. I want badly to mark him, to claim him as mine. "Do it." He says, and I bite into his skin hard. He's keening up against me and moaning as I realize i'm drawing blood. I almost come right then from the sight of it. "Oh, yes Johnny, you have a blood kink. Didn't you know?" He hisses. "Don't worry, I like it just as much as you." He assures me. I lap at the blood with the flat of my tongue and he moans again.

The metalic taste in my mouth is strange, but I do like it. "How do you know?" I ask as I run my fingernails down his sides. "It was obvious the first time you patched me up from a knife wound. I could see you getting hard from the blood running off my arm. Then when we first kissed you ended up licking the blood from my chin. You certainly are more than meets the eye, Doctor." I lick up the last drops of blood and kiss him on the mouth. "Well I guess punching you that night ended up being in your favor." I joke, eyeing him hungrily. "Indeed." Sherlock replies as I push him down on the bed. "And it doesn't bother you?" I ask, looking him directly in the eye to make sure the answer is truthful. "Absolutely not, and this isn't the first time I've bled in this bed for you." He says with a dark grin. "You've brought your favorite hunting knife in twice before. You are a naughty boy, John. And I love that about you."

I start kissing down his chest and run my fingers over the bite wound to test his reaction. When it makes him rub himself up into me I press harder, curling my short finger nails into the skin. This makes him buck up wildly. I press my cock down and rut against him as I whisper, "Pain slut." into his ear. "Mmmmm." He agrees. This makes my mind spin. So many ideas, so many plans. I shove my hand into his mouth and he seems to know exactly what I want. He sucks hard on the fingers, running his tongue between them and covering them in his saliva. I remove the hand and reach down to start playing with his asshole. I slowly slip in one finger and feel him tighten around me. I give his right upper thigh a hard bite and he relaxes.

I kiss over the bite mark and push my finger in further past one, then two rings of resistance. I rub up and in and find his prostate without much trouble. He shudders under me and I push in another finger. I lick up his hard cock as I scissor the finger and begin to open him up. He jumps as I suck his cock down, and I add the third finger. I suck and bob my head and I finally get him loose enough. I pull off his cock and reach back with my left to grab the bottle of lubricant and slick up my cock. I toss the bottle to the side of the bed and sit up between his legs.

I grab one of the pillows and push it underneath his lower back. As I begin to slide my cock into him I look him right in the eyes. His eyes are dark, the darkest I have seen them. There is only a whisper of blue around the outer edge, the rest a hungry black. His mouth lies open in an expression of amazement. I push all of the way into him and he groans loudly. I bend down to kiss him on the mouth as I begin to move. He is so hot and tight around me that I ask him if it's okay. He looks at me and nods yes as his cheeks turn a shade darker. With this assurance I begin to move in earnest. I've been focussing so deeply on him that I didn't realize how close to completion I am.

I focus on him again, feeling him tight around me. I angle myself to hit his prostate and find it right away. I start to slam into him hard, hitting his prostate with each thrust. I can tell he is getting close to climax, so I bend down over him and sink my teeth back into the abused skin on his neck. As I bite he comes, sending semen up his chest and stomach and tightening around my cock. That and the sight of new blood send me over the edge, and I come hard into him. I move erratically as I milk myself dry in him, finally pulling out and falling next to him on the bed.

I curl to his side as our breathing becomes more regular. When he begins to stir I say, "Shhh." and get up to retrieve my small med kit and a warm wash cloth. When I return to the room I turn on the small lamp on the bedside table and go to him. I clean him up with the warm wet cloth, and then myself. I take the small kit and open it, seeking out the hydrogen peroxide and some gauze. "Come here." I say and motion for him to lay closer to me. He scoots over and I clean the bite wound. I then place a bit of triple antibiotic cream on it and a gauze square. I cover it with tape and kiss him on the forehead. "Thank you doctor." He says sleepily.

I put the pieces back in the box and close it. Then I take the washcloth and it back to the bathroom. I quietly go into the kitchen and turn on the water so that he won't hear if I have to reply to a text. There is one new text from mycroft, and I sit down to read it.

_Doctor Watson, I was able to get you an appointment with Doctor Wong at Bart's at eleven o'clock tomorrow. I told him everything and had all of your medical records sent to his receptionist. Do me a favor, DO NOT BE LATE and DO NOT BE RUDE. I am sorry to have to ask, but the last session you had did not end well at all. I hope that all you want to know is given to you._

_Mycroft Holmes_

_Thank you Mycroft, I promise not to call him a pompous arse no matter what he tells me._

_JW_

_Hello Greg, My appointment is tomorrow at eleven. Please have Sherlock out of here by ten thirty. Thank you._

_JW_

With that done I turn off the phone and the faucet and head to bed, hoping that Sherlock won't see the guilt on my face....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay selkie, what did I miss this time. It was pretty hot and heavy, and I'm really tired, so let me know.  
> yours kate :)


	9. The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John tries to see a doctor about his condition while Sherlock is out.

The morning sun wakes me and I find myself once again wrapped in Sherlock's arms. I lay for a while feeling the  _huff, huff_ of his breath on my neck. I want to lay here forever but an arduous day awaits me. I slowly turn so that I am facing Sherlock and kiss him on the neck a few times before he awakes. "Hmm..." He says sleepily. "Morning, love." I reply as I get out of bed and head into the kitchen. I fill the kettle with water and turn it on, then head for the bathroom. As I look into the mirror I feel a pang of guilt at the fact that I will have to lie to Sherlock today. I put a bit of toothpaste on my brush and run it under the water as Sherlock comes in and does the same. "So, tell me what's going on." He says through a minty foam. I can feel myself begin to blush. "Not sure what you mean Sher." I reply without looking him in the eye. I brush and spit before I find the strength to look up warily. When our eyes lock he looks almost like he's in pain. I look away. "You are up to something, and it is making you feel guilty, what is it?" He mumbles with the toothbrush still in his mouth. "Nothing." I reply, and leave the room.

The kettle begins to boil as I reach the kitchen, and I pour hot water in two cups. I try to ignore my now urgent feelings of guilt. "Just tell me and get it over with, it's obvious that you won't be able to keep this little secret. I can see you breaking right in front of me." Sherlock whispers in my ear. "JJ-Jesus, Sherlock! Don't sneak up on someone carrying hot beverages. I have no secret to tell you, now leave me alone." I stutter out in a voice that doesn't begin to fool anyone. I turn and place the tea on the kitchen table and Sherlock crowds me backwards against the counter. He stares deep into my eyes as I feel the flush coming back in my cheeks. "Liar!" He hisses and spins away. He grabs his tea and stomps into the bedroom slamming the door in his wake. Damn. Damn. Damn. I make toast with jam for me and butter for him and stand outside the door. "I'm not a liar, and I made you toast." I say through the door. "You ARE a liar, and toast will not win you my favor." Comes his reply. I turn the knob and push the door open a crack. "Can I come in?" I ask. "You already are in, and you pay rent, so I guess I can't stop you." Sherlock croaks with his back turned to me.

As I make my way into the room I see that he's breathing rapidly. I place the toast on the bedside table and circle the bed to look at his face. He has it scrunched up in a bizarre manner. He looks as if he might explode. "Sherlock, talk to me." I whisper as I settle on my knees in front of him. "No! You are lying to me, and I will not forgive you." He huffs, like a two year old mid tantrum. "We are in a relationship, and people who are in relationships don't keep secrets........unless your secret is that you want to break up....." He says as he stands abruptly and steps past me, angrily leaving the room. "Sherlock!" I cry after him. But by then he is out of the room and running down the stairs on his way to the street. I stand up as well and follow him down and out into a frosty morning. I only realize that I am still in my t-shirt and pajama pants when I see him walking away in his pajamas and robe. The morning air is crisp and painful on my face as I dash after him down the street. "Sherlock, stop!" I yell out. I finally catch up and grab him by the arms. I turn him to face me and there are tears in his eyes. "You!!! You are doing this to me. You have broken down all of my barriers just to make me a fool." Sherlock hisses, twisting in my grip. "Sher, I don't want to break up-" I plead as he tries to get away. "But you have to.....is that it? What is it about me that repels you so? What have I done that is such a crime?" He argues. "NO! I do not want to, and am NOT breaking up with you. I'm sorry that you thought that. Come back inside and I will explain it all to you." I insist.

Sherlock goes slack between my hands and looks at the ground. I am relieved when he nods yes, and take him in my arms. We walk together back into the flat through a crowd of strangers. He and I make it up and into the flat and I lead him to the bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I hold him to me. "This has nothing to do with the way I feel about you. That will never change. I love you, and there is nothing you could ever do or say to change that." I say into his hair. I kiss him over and over again until he stops shaking. "Then what is it?" He begs. "I made an appointment. To see a doctor. I didn't tell you because I was afraid that if you went with me you would scare him away. I'm sorry I didn't tell you." I state, not sure what to expect. His body slumps against me and he sighs. "I'm sorry." I whisper. He looks up at me, face tearstained and red. Suddenly we are kissing, hot and hard. His teeth clash against mine as we seem to battle each other. His eyes are wild and pleading. The kisses say 'it's okay' and 'don't ever leave me' and 'I need you'. I pull away to catch my breath. "I'm yours. Always." I say as he takes my head in his hands and begins to kiss me deeply again. He seems desperate for my touch, so I slip my hands underneath his shirt and across his back. I hold him tight against me, trying to convey my love for him. When he finally stops kissing me I reach up to dry his tears with my hands. I rub his face dry and cover it with soft kisses until he looks almost himself again. "I'm sorry." I whisper a third time.

I sit back on the bed and reach for his tea, placing it in his hands. "Do you understand why I need to do this alone?" I ask, looking him in the eyes. "I suppose." Sherlock wimpers, and sips his tea. "Let's go into the kitchen and have breakfast." I say , and stand up. He nods yes and passes me as I grab the toast from beside the bed. We make it into the kitchen and I sit across from him and push his toast under his nose. He pokes at it with one finger as if it might be poisoned and the picks it up and takes a bite. I sip from my tea and eat my toast in silence. "I have an appointment at Bart's at eleven, maybe you can find something interesting to do in the morgue." I say. "Doubtful." Sherlock replies with a huff. "I guess I could try." He adds. I finish my toast and bring the plate to the sink. While I clean up Sherlock begins to take a shower. After the food is put away I go to the bathroom door and listen. The water is still running and Sherlock says through the door, "Feel free to join me, John." I decide this is a good idea and enter the steamy room. I strip and slide into the shower. Sherlock frowns at me and wraps his arms around me. "Don't scare me like that. You can't keep things from me." He says against my skin. "I won't." I reply.

Sherlock trades places with me and starts to suds me up. I stand happily as he cleans me, humming while he does. When I'm clean I lather up my hands and cover his body in soap. I massage his back as he leans against the wall. He is still quite tense, and working out the kinks in his shoulders is my way of making up for the morning. I wash away the soap and kiss his back and shoulders. He faces me and we kiss long and deep. His fingers trace the scar on my shoulder as we kiss, softly palpating the skin. He rests his face on my shoulder finally and sighs deeply. I hold him against my body and finally feel him relax. When we are done with the shower it is about time to head out. I dress in some jeans, a button up shirt and a warm jumper as Sherlock puts on a proper suit and gets his scarf. I walk to the desk and pick up my mobile. I turn it on and text Greg to tell him that he won't need to ask Sherlock to come down to the yard after all. He doesn't ask questions, and I am thankful for that. I turn off the phone and we head out for a cab.

The ride to Bart's is quiet, but Sherlock has his head on my shoulder and is playing on his phone. I hope that this is a sign that things are going back to normal. I feel more nervous the closer we get to the hospital. I need answers, but I'm not so sure I want them. If the answers are as bad as Sherlock says, I am in for a shock. When the cab stops I jump a bit, awoken from my thoughts. Sherlock squeezes my thigh. I get out as he pays the cabbie, and stand looking up at the building. He joins me on the sidewalk and kisses me once before heading towards the morgue. This is it. It is time to face my fears. I walk into the hospital and fill out some paperwork at the front desk, passing my information to a cheery blond woman. She gives me my ID back and I go to a chair to wait for my name to be called. A few minutes later a man with a clipboard comes out and ushers me into and office. "Hello John, I am doctor Wong. I have been updated on your case, and am glad to see that you made it to our appointment." The man says with a smile. "Yes, I admit I am a bit afraid of what you have to tell me." I tell him honestly. "Well the good news is that the injury to your brain will not cause any more damage than it already has. Looking over your scans last night I noticed little swelling around the brain, which is good. I would like to take another scan today if you don't mind. What I can tell you about brain damage is that the brain is amazingly flexible. You may get your memory back, but it will take time. Your brain need to develop new pathways around the damaged tissue. You need to know that you should stay away from rigorous activities like football. You are a very lucky man to go through this without going into a coma." The doctor said. "Is it true that I could die from another blow to the head?" I ask. "I don't see why that would happen, but avoid getting hit in the head all the same." He says with a smile. "Now, let's get that scan." He adds, standing from the desk and opening the door for me. "Thank you, doctor" I say as I leave to walk down the long hall with his assistant.

After the scan I get back into my own clothes and make my way to the morgue. As I enter the room I can see Sherlock pacing back and forth looking at his watch. When he sees me his eyes light up with concern and he walks over to me. "What did the doctor say?" He pleads. "It's not as bad as you thought. I won't die if I get hit over the head, but I might not get my memories back. If I do get any back it will be a long time before that happens. I'm going to be okay." I tell him, eyeing him for a response. He smiles triumphantly and jumps up and down. "Brilliant!" He bellows. I laugh. "So when can you return to crime scenes with me?" He asks. I laugh again and say, "Soon, soon." We walk out of St. Bart's much lighter than we came in. He bubbles about some scar he saw on a body in the morgue on the cab ride home. Everything, it seems, might just be fine....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally finished this chapter, hope you like it. Enjoy things while they are pleasant, danger and bad luck always lurk around the corner for our wonderful duo.


	10. The Favorite Hunting Knife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soooooooo.......this chapter is going to be a long drawn out bloodplay sex scene. If blood irks you turn away now....

Now that we made it home the feeling of relief is swimming through my system. It feels like I am covered in warm light. I haven't felt so content in I don't know how long. After so many stressful days I feel light as a feather. I make it up the stairs with a bounce in my step. Once in the flat I head for the kitchen to make some tea. As I fill up the kettle I hear Sherlock fiddling around in the bedroom. I turn on the kettle and find two cups. I could get used to this feeling of complete calm. Sherlock is behind me without warning. He puts a hand on my shoulder and pushes the length of his body against me. I can feel his warm breath on my neck as I notice his arousal swelling. "Hey there, what are you up to?" I say, hoping that he can't hear the need in my voice. "Perhaps a little celebration." He purrs, moving the hand not gripping me to dangle something in front of me. My heart skips a beat. He rubs himself roughly against me again and I can feel the blood rushing to my cock. It's my bloody hunting knife. What in the....oh, god yes. I grab it from his hand and turn off the kettle with the other. I spin around and catch his face in my hand. I squeeze roughly and shake it. "Don't you dare tease me unless you are willing to suffer the consequences." I hiss. He smiles in my hand. "Darling, I was born for this." He growls, walking quickly backwards. He turns towards the bedroom and keeps walking. I follow him. I always will.

I catch up to him as he sits on the bed and take his mouth with mine. I kiss him fiercely, biting his bottom lip and moaning around his tongue. "You sure you want this?" I ask, not completely certain how much I want him to say yes. He simply growls at me, the look in his eyes bordering on insane. I unsheathe the blade and run the dull edge against his throat. He pushes into it and draws in a shaky breath. "Yes." He hisses. I take the knife and slowly run it down his shirt. The buttons hold up no resistance to its sharp edge. They skitter as they hit the floor, disappearing here and there. Once none of them remain I draw open his shirt using the tip of the blade. All that beautiful alabaster skin emerges, glowing in the afternoon sunlight. A thin red line rises where the blade softly plays. No pressure just yet, only a whisper. I look into his eyes, open and wanting. It's wonderful to see him like this, not hiding anything, not holding back. It makes my hair stand on end seeing him so vulnerable. Vulnerable for only me.

"You like it when I take control, don't you? You like to give up what hold you have on the situation. You like it when I get my way." I say as I push him down onto the bed, guiding his body so that his head falls on the pillow. "Take what you want. I am yours, and yours alone." He says breathily. I mount him and stare into his eyes. I take the knife and run it in a sloppy x over his heart. I push gently, but the blade is so sharp that drops of blood blossom up where it has been. "This is mine. I am laying claim." I bark. "Yes!" He hisses back, eyes wide and wild. I lap up the blood with my tongue, thrilling in the sharp taste. I sit up and run my thumb along the cut. I rub the blood on his bottom lip and he shudders. My arousal is so strong that I can hear the blood pumping in my ears. I take the knife and begin to write with it. I cut a long slow J just under his right nipple. The sight of the blood that springs up from it makes me momentarily dizzy. Sherlock looks down at his own body when I sway, understanding what I am doing. "Yes. I'm yours." He says quietly, laying back on the pillow and closing his eyes. I begin to write a large O next to the J. I push carefully, making sure to go deep enough for him to bleed, but not so much that I will have to suture him later. He shivers underneath me, sweat forming steadily on his brow. I lick the J and moan into his skin. I run my thumb across him again, picking up some of the blood pooling from the O. I bring my thumb up to his face, and he reveals his tongue to me. I rub the thick red fluid onto it, my own hand shaking. His eyes don't leave mine.

I put down the knife and he looks at me quizzically. I smile wide at him and undo his button and fly. I pull off his trousers and pants in one slow motion. His cock bobs up almost comically, head blushing and leaking. I take off my shirt and toss it aside. I unbutton my trousers and stand to remove them. When I get back on top of Sherlock he shudders and breaths quickly. I take my hand and give his dick one slow pull, running my bloodied thumb across the head. The dried blood and come mix. I stifle a cry. My breath is almost ragged now. He quakes underneath me. I look up from his leaking cock to his abdomen and the blood running together at the top of the J and O. I rutt against him slightly and we moan in unison. I look him in the eyes and he nods. I pick up the knife. I drag the point down his chest once, then twice. I connect the two lines to form an H, watching as one single tear rolls from his right eye to his ear. I kiss him where the tear leaves a path and he smiles, nodding again. There is quite a lot of blood now, the three letter leaking together as his body vibrates. I rutt against him again and he calls out my name. "Do it, John." He says.

I take the knife to his skin for the last time drawing it up and down and up again to form the N. I put the knife on the side table and take his cock in my hand. I jack him off slowly as I watch the blood form on the last letter of my name. Once the N is beginning to run into the H, I reach to the bedside table and retrieve the lube. He smiles up at me like a crazy man. I slick up the fingers on my right hand and begin to open him up. I run my pointer finger around his hole and watch him squirm. "Yes!" He exclaims. I push into him and feel the heat. "More!" He demands, breathing rapidly. I push in with a second finger and begin to scissor them, drawing him wider for me. His head falls back on the pillow and his mouth opens. He moans loudly as I rub against his prostate, and my cock begins to hurt. I push in a third finger and move them in and out. "Ready?" I ask. "Yes." He replies as he looks back at me. I hesitate for a moment, not sure if I should do what I really want to. Sherlock gets an evil glimmer in his eye. "Do it." He says with half lidded eyes and an ever growing smile.

I take my right hand and stroke it across his belly, gathering what I can of the blood. He watches me with wide knowing eyes as I use it to lube myself up. His mouth goes slack and I push into him with a cock covered in blood. He moans and writhes as I push myself deeper into him. I watch as my cock, dripping with blood, forces its way into his hot body. I know I won't last long. I build up a rhythm, fucking him as deeply as I can. My blood feels hot in my veins. I feel myself beginning to lose it, so I take his cock in my hand and begin to pump. He's making guttural noises and shaking, eyes rolled back in his head. Sweat drips off my brow, mixing with the blood on his belly and I feel him begin to tense around me. I twist my hand on his cock and he comes over himself in thick rivulets of white. They stand out against the red of the blood as I start to lose my vision. I come hard and everything goes white for a second. My breathing begins to slow, and I look into Sherlock's eyes as my vision comes back. He's shaking and smiling under me as I pull out and head for the bathroom. I turn on the warm water and run a flannel under it, grabbing my med kit and looking down at my body. "Fuck." I sigh. I drop the med kit and go to Sherlock. 

Sherlock is laying on the bed where I left him with his eyes closed. I use the flannel to dab at him, trying to lift as much blood and come off of his abdomen without hurting him. He shakes gently. "Come on love." I say, reaching for his hand. "Let's have a shower." He smiles up at me and opens his eyes. "Alright." He says in an almost childish soft voice. We walk into the bathroom, me leading him by the hand. I turn on the hot water knob and wait for it to warm, then I add enough cold to keep it from hurting our skin. I pull back the curtain and step in, turning to help Sherlock. His body is pliant, and his smile sleepy. once we are both in I put my hands under the water and gather enough to wash off most of the blood without soap. "You're beautiful." I say as I rub my palms gently over him. "Mmmm" He replies. I reach out of the shower to my med kit and place it on the toilet. I open it and remove some gauze and some povidone-iodine. "Stay still, love." I whisper. I carefully cover the knife marks in orange brown fluid, making sure to be gentle. I turn him around and hug his body around the shoulders. "You beautiful fucking man." I whisper, kissing his shoulders and back. "Mmmm" He replies. I trade places with him and wet his hair. I kiss him on the mouth and he smiles wider. I take shampoo and clean his dark curls. I then rinse them and add conditioner. I let it sit while I rub soap over the parts of his body not marked by my blade. I let him turn in the water and rinse his body and hair while I shampoo myself. When he is done I switch places again and cover myself with soap. I rinse myself and turn off the water. 

I get out carefully and help Sherlock out. I take a large towel and dry his body while he stands sleepily in front of me. I add another layer of iodine and wipe it gently off, adding triple anti-biotic cream to his soft skin. He stands smiling while I dry myself and then walk with him back to the bedroom. I draw him into a chair as I begin to remove the fitted sheet. I replace it with a clean one and pull Sherlock out of the chair and onto the bed. "Do you want to sleep for a while Sher?" I ask, kissing him on the forehead. "MmmmHmm." He replies, and I lay him down. I lay down next to him and he cuddles against me as I pull the duvet over our bodies. I kiss him in his damp hair and he sighs. "Thank you." I say. He rests his face against my arm, and falls deeply into sleep....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god that felt good. A bit of bloodplay and some aftercare. Exactly what I needed.
> 
> Did I miss anything Selkie?


	11. Needless injuries, and other obvious outcomes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is an idiot, and we fall in love with him all over again.

Our first case back was a bizarre mistaken identity mystery. Lestrade met us by the caution tape and smiled almost sadly at me. 

"John, been a while. How are you feeling?" said the gray haired man. He stuck his hand out and grasped mine firmly. "It's Greg." he added, with another smile. 

"I recognised the voice." I replied. "Good to put a face with it." 

He looked suddenly pained, then turned and walked over to the body. Sherlock was already hunched over it, running gloved fingers over the small hands. He raised a finger to his lips and tasted whatever was clinging to it. A wave of nausea swept over me when I saw the back of the man's head had been bashed in. I carefully breathed through my nose until it passed, and then crouched down next to Sherlock. 

"Quite a nasty head wound. " He whispered to me without looking up. "Are you alright? "

I smiled at the concern. " Yeah. " I said. " Any clue to what's going on? "

" The victim was found without identification, but seeing as their are only a few true apothecaries still functioning in central London, I don't believe ascertaining his identity will be difficult." Sherlock said before standing and striding to meet Lestrade. 

"And you know this how, exactly? " Greg asked. 

Sherlock gave a little grin. " The substance under his nails is a rare form of poisonous root found mostly in dryer climates. The stains on his fingers are from a fluid commonly used as a suspension for such ground medicines. As you will find-" Sherlock said before I cut him off. 

"Did you say poison? " I asked, thoroughly confused. 

" No need to worry John. The effects won't kick in for another ten minutes, and you'll surely have got me to A&E by then. It's funny, hmm... The killer didn't realize that he didn't have to bash the man's skull in. The root's oils would have killed him within the hour. " He finished as I was dialing 999 frantically. His words began to slur and Greg grabbed him before he hit the ground. 

I yelled into the receiver and began pacing furiously. 

\-----

I sat in the waiting room in one of those hideous bucket seats that went out of style in the late seventies. My back ached and I sighed deeply and ran my fingers through my hair. What have I gotten myself into? I was in love with a madman. How horribly cliché of me. 

The doctor came down the hallway and I rose to meet her. 

"Your friend will be fine. We've got him on iv fluids for the time being and a newly formulated antivenom. It's a miracle that he managed to write down the plant that poisoned him. We wouldn't have known what to give him without that information. Do you mind if I ask you how he managed to get poisoned by such a rare plant?" She asked. 

"We were helping solve the murder of an apothecary. He thought it would be useful to taste what was under the dead man's fingernails. " I said with a laugh. 

She looked puzzled. " I'm glad you can laugh at his lack of basic self preservation. " She said snidely. 

I frowned. " If you're done being judgemental, " I said, " I'd like to see my boyfriend. "

I brushed past her and walked into the room. Sherlock looked peaceful as he rested. I sat next to the bed and put my hand on his. 

" You absolute git. You're going to be the death of me. " I whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one goes out to the wondrous Ravenscar. Hope you don't mind that this chapter was a bit small.


	12. Misunderstood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter involves some people being awful to John. If you don't want to read it I can understand. Just know that it makes Sherlock love him all the more to have that love questioned. 
> 
> Warnings  
> Homosexual slurs  
> Consentual behavior being treated as criminal

I must have drifted off. I wake to the shock of handcuffs on my wrists. I look around and struggle. I can see Greg at the end of the room. 

"What the hell is going on? Greg what the hell is this?" I yell. 

Greg looks guiltily away from me before he speaks. "They saw the scars, John. There's nothing I can do, you're being hauled in on domestic assault charges. I just want to know..." He replies. 

"You just want to know what, you utter prick? " I retort, brimming with rage. 

" How could you? How could you hurt him when he loved you so much? " Greg asks. 

" Oh for God's sake. IT WAS CONSENTUAL, YOU IDIOTS!" I bellow back. 

"No one can consent to that kind of torture. The scars? The bloody scars in your name? Did you tie him up too? Did you rape him? " Greg yells behind me as I'm pushed into a cop car. 

The door is slammed behind me. I feel sick to my stomach. The accusations hurt even though I know they aren't true. I would never hurt Sherlock. I had made absolutely sure that he wanted it as much as I did. The car leaves the kerb and I slam my head against the window. 

"No time for regret now, doctor." The man in the front seat says, filling the last word with venom. 

"Fucking poof. " I hear the man add under his breath. 

\-----

A few hours later a crying nurse flees from Sherlock's room. Lestrade stands and enters. 

" Where the hell is he? " Sherlock hisses. 

" Now Sherlock, settle down-" Greg interjects. 

"That little bitch had the audacity to tell me he couldn't hurt me. What the fuck have they done? Are you bastards so absolutely juvenile that you can't be bothered to ask someone if they've been assaulted? What happens in our bed is none of your business! " Sherlock yells. 

Greg shifts from one foot to the other. "It becomes our business when you end up with scars, Sherlock. Look, I know you might think you have things under control, but you obviously don't. We can help you. " Greg says uncomfortably. 

Sherlock laughs. " Your pedestrian knowledge of sexually practices is abysmal. You really have no idea what you are talking about, do you? IT. WAS. CONSENTUAL. YOU. BLOODY. IDIOT." Sherlock screams as he gets out of bed and searches the small room to find his mobile. When he finds it he turns back to Greg. "Get the fuck out!" He yells. 

Greg pauses for a moment and then leaves the room. 

Sherlock dials his brother and waits for him to pick up. 

\-----

I sit in the cold cell, looking blankly at the wall. It really is a shock that this is my life. I can't believe I never thought that this might happen. I didn't even think of it when I saw Sherlock in the hospital gown. 

I can hear a loud bang and fast moving feet from down the hall, so I stand up to look. Sherlock is screaming and throwing things as his brother and an angry copper stride my way. The copper slides his badge over the door and it opens. 

"You're free to go. " He says. 

Mycroft looks at me with a sad smile." Come along, doctor. " He says. 

I walk out and see Sherlock still throwing a tantrum. I gather my things and quickly leave, dragging Sherlock along with me. He is spitting and seething. All three of us get into the dark car idling at the kerb. Sherlock hugs me tight and I feel tears pricking my eyes. Mycroft clears his throat and I look up. 

"I knew you were a bit strange, dear brother, but don't you think branding is a tad much? " He asks. 

Sherlock slumps in his seat, but doesn't let go of me. "That's no one's business." He replies. 

"I agree. They were out of bounds in many ways, John. I'm sorry you had to endure that. They aren't allowed to make an arrest without a verbal complaint from the partner in this kind of situation. They got out of hand. They will be summarily reprimanded. " Mycroft says to me as the tears are really starting to fall. 

Sherlock pushes his face into the space between my shoulder and neck. 

" You know I'd never... " I say weakly. 

" Hurt my brother? Of course. " Mycroft finishes for me. 

The rest of the cab ride back remains silent.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no beta, so be kind.


End file.
